Heritage
by Lil' Tortuga
Summary: Sol wasn't human, but she wasn't Cybertronian, either. Before their death, her parents had kept their past in the dark, but that might soon change as events bring pieces to light and she learns about her heritage as a warrior and future ruler of the Avisan race. Rated T to be safe! AU. I don't own anything but my OC, Sol.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay; so this is my very first fanfic, so please be a little nice! I'll understand if this is crap and you don't like it, but tell me what you think. For more information about different things in the AU that I have created, just look at my profile; information should be up really, really soon! I can't promise regular updates, what with my crazy schedule and all, but I will try my hardest to get as many chapters out as I can. Happy reading!**

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**Chapter One**

It was an normal spring day. Well, normal enough of a day for Sol. What was even normal any more? Taking her time, the twenty-four year old walked down the sidewalk leading through the quiet town. She had just finished up at her job as a librarian at the local public library for the day. Okay, as an assistant librarian. Still the same, wasn't it? Both jobs involved books and Sol loved her job very much, along with the environment that came with it: calm and quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be when much of the day consisted of chasing six- and seven-year-olds around during storytime. Every Monday was storytime at the library, something she gladly helped out with. Chuckling, she shook her head, remembering how a little boy, six-year-old Noah with white-blonde locks and the bluest eyes you've ever seen, managed to sneak behind Mrs. Granger's desk and scare the living daylights out of the poor head librarian when she sat down. The poor lady had no idea; turn your back for even a few seconds, and some of the children would disappear, leading to a hunt for said children. Hands down, storytime was the best. The young children loved Sol, and she them.

Making her way past the post office, Sol shivered. There was a slight breeze winding through the air, but that wasn't why she shivered. The feeling of being watched followed her every step, setting her on edge. She hadn't felt like this since before the last time she had moved; it had been a year since she had last moved. Her hands clenched into fists, if only to keep from aiming her palms at someone in her slightly paranoid and nervous state. Glancing around, her eyes landed on a sleek silver Audi idling mere yards behind her next to the sidewalk. The expensive vehicle mocked her. Taunted her. The purr of the engine seemed to whisper to her, _I know what you are._ Sol sped up her pace until she was practically jogging, soon coming to the outskirts of the quaint town and to where a dirt road intersected the rundown paved one. Taking a right onto the dirt road that led farther into the forests that surrounded the town, Sol moved into the trees, moving silently through the underbrush. She ducked behind trees and bushes when a vehicle roared down the road, watching for the silver car, only to realize that it was an old rusted pickup or another rusty vehicle. For two miles she did this, all the while keeping her slightly-pointed ears open for any sounds out of the ordinary and her now-gold eyes peeled for any strange sights, until she finally came upon an old farmhouse sitting in the middle of a weed-choked yard. The house wasn't much, but the landowner was kind enough to let her rent it at a very low price, and it gave her enough space and the trees around it gave her enough privacy to be herself.

Not that she wasn't herself to begin with. There were certain... characteristics, if you would, that she would rather keep quiet. Her ears, for example. They were slightly pointed. Yes, there are some humans that were born with ears like that, but if one compared Sol's ears to theirs, her ears would have been identified as "not human." Think of Spock's ears, only much more delicate and more feminine. Then there was the strange matter of her hands; at seemingly random times, there could be seen a slight shimmering haze surrounding her hands. Her eyes were yet another example; her eyes could go from brown to blue in a matter of seconds. However, her true eye color was a deep golden brown, not unlike the color of warm apple cider on a chilly autumn evening, but with brighter streaks of gold intermixed. The changing colors was nothing but a form of camouflage that helped her blend in with the humans that lived in on this planet.

Sol snorted as she walked up the short dirt path to the front porch, her feet not even making a sound on the worn boards. Humans. Leave it to her parents to pick a planet to hide on that was filled with an alien race that was so similar to their own. Pulling her hands out of her coat pockets, she fished her key out of her jeans pocket, then twisted the key into the stubborn lock. Her sharper hearing picked up on the click the lock made once it was unlocked, so she removed the key, turned the knob, opened the creaking door, and waited. Ears straining, she listened for any sound of movement. Casting out her senses, she felt for any tremors that were out of the norm, probing for thought patterns that should not be there. All that could be discerned was the ocassional mouse that scampered through the walls. Sol relaxed slightly, but still on alert. If there was one thing her parents managed to drill into her brain, it was to always be on alert, no matter what.

Another thought of her parents sent a wave of sorrow and pain coursing through her chest, as she closed the door behind her and locked it. Unzipping her coat as she continued forward onto the stairs, the article of clothing was dropped carelessly as she went, as well as her faded pair of Converse. Finally reaching the top, she turned left down the hall into her bedroom, discarding her sweatshirt and long-sleeve tee, revealing a modified black racerback tank. Now free from the restricting clothing, her deep brown feathered wings flared out from her back, revelling in the stretch. Reaching a hand back, Sol used her nails to dig at a spot on her left wing, digging into the fold mercilessly as a few downy feathers drifted to the floor. Molting. Ugh. Such an itchy business, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was a fact of life for her race. A low moan of happiness issued from her throat as she scratched continuously, more downy feathers falling lazily to the wooden floor boards. It was that time of the year again; winter was coming to a close with spring growing ever closer. The thick layer of down underneath her main feathers, the small fluffy feathers that had provided warmth on her dark and snowy, midnight flights, was slowly falling out.

Focusing on the thin carpet of down coating the floorboards, Sol raised one hand ever so slowly. Concentration creased her brow, channeling a tiny fraction of her energy into performing one thing: telekinesis. Sweeping her hand into an arc, every single one of the feathers rose upwards into the air, turning into a vortex. A grin ghosted her lips, taking pride at being able to make something move, pride in her parents for teaching her how to contol it properly. If she remembered her mother's lessons, very few on their homeworld actually had telekinesis. It was considered a talent of the royal line, something that Sol was not, as far as she believed. She wasn't sure; it was a topic her parents steered clear of. One of many that was avoided. Lowering her hand and allowing the down to drop once more onto the floor, her fingers whispered over her left bicep where a tribal marking resided. Faint black lines criss-crossed each other until glyphs were created, interwoven with the symbol for "sun." Her namesake. She didn't know a lot about her heritage; all she knew was that something had happened to cause her parents to leave before she was born and seek refuge on this planet.

Reaching for the gray afghan that was dumped in a wad on her bed, one of many scattered throughout the home, she wrapped the soft blanket around her shoulders, making her way back to the stairs. Sol fluttered her wings a bit, using the appendages to shift the afghan just right so that it didn't catch on feathers. She was molting enough; she really didn't feel like picking them from her afghan. It was bad enough that every morning, she woke up and her bed was full of the soft down; oh, how she wished she could say it was from the pillows! Sadly, her pillows were still intact.

Sol paused at the top of the stairs, contemplating her next plan of action: to walk down them like a normal person, or to jump over the railing, falling a good ten feet before hitting the floor? Feeling a bit daring, Sol chose the latter, grasping the railing in one hand and using it to vault herself over. A few seconds later, a light thud could be heard. Rising from the crouch she had landed in, she snickered. _I don't even need to remove the blanket anymore_, she thought, remembering when she jumped over the railing for the first time. Her wings had flared out in a panic, catching on the stairs and tangling into the blanket she had draped over her shoulders. Let's just say that she was quite sore for the rest of the day and had quite the mess to clean up. When her wings had opened, they had caught a shelf of knick-knacks and picture frames, sending them crashing to the hard floor, shattering much of the breakable objects. That shelf now resided in a different part of the farmhouse. She walked forward as she reminisced, heading into the kitchen in search of food. Yanking open the fridge, she scanned the shelves for something halfway decent to eat, with no such luck. Reaching in and removing a leftover container, she opened it, only to recoil in disgust before she had even lifted it to her nose.

"Hooray for enchanced senses," Sol growled sarcastically. Of course, being from a different planet, her senses would be different. It kind of sucked, half the time. Walking through the grocery store, your nostrils filling with overpowering scents from the deoderant aisle or standing next to shoppers who smelled like they had never been in the aforementioned aisle was enough to make anyone turn insane. Or enough to make her only go to such places when she absolutely had to or if there were hardly any others inside. Shoving the gross container back into the fridge and closing it, Sol went to scan the cupboards for anything edible. Opening one cupboard with a creak, she froze. Closing the cupboard slowly and carefully enough that it did not squeak, Sol listened. Her ears twitched slightly, straining to catch the faint sound that the creaky door had covered up. The gray afghan slid from her shoulders, her wings opening just enough in readiness to take flight at the first hint of trouble. Sol quietly crept through the house until she was once again at the foot of the stairs, just in case she needed to dash up them to make her escape. It always was easier to just throw one's self out of a window so as to quickly start flying; so much easier. Reaching out one hand behind her, an aluminum baseball bat whispered through the air, landing in her hand neatly.

_I knew I should have not reacted that way around that car; it was probably one of them! I knew I should have been more careful! This is exactly what happened last time. I need to stop staying in one place for so long and I really need to get a better grip on my emotions. I'm going to get myself killed! How could I be so stupid? I'm an idiot, _she berated herself harshly. Before she could continue scolding herself, the sound of metal striking metal in quick, rapid succession jerked her out of her thoughts. She dropped the bat, letting it clatter to the floor. Not sparing a single second, Sol tore up the stairs as fast as her feet would allow without tripping. Low thudding footsteps echoed outside the old farmhouse, accompanied by electronic trills and clicks. As soon as her feet touched the landing at the top of the stairs, something landed on the roof, skittering around. Standing as still as a statue, Sol listened to the noise, trying to tell which direction the thing was moving; it seemed to be moving towards her bedroom. Instead of going to her room, Sol turned right into the study. The tiny room was close to empty, save for about seven bookcases that lined the walls, overflowing with novels. Dashing across the floor, she made it to her target: the window. Fighting to get it open, she managed to yank the bottom part up halfway, just enough for her to crawl through out onto the overhang of the front porch. Doing just that, she crouched on the overhang for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of night. After a minute, she stood, readying herself for the jump that would lead to flight. Before she could take the leap, a voice made itself known.

"Well, well, well. Lord Megatron will be pleased."

Sol's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the metal giant standing before her, her limbs frozen with fear. Silently, she watched as the silver robot drew closer as he gloated, trying desperately to urge herself to move. A noise behind her in the open window jerked her out of her paralyzed state, only to stare in fear at the figure in the window. The figure was about her size, humanoid, with piercing red optics that seemed to sparkle in glee as the hologram that had disguised it faded and flickered.

"Pretender." The ragged whisper tore from Sol's lips unwillingly. As she watched, the Pretender's disguise melted back into place, revealing her as Mrs. Granger, the head librarian at the public library where Sol worked. Horror washed through Sol as she witnessed the change. She had been so close to one of these monsters and she hadn't even realized it. The Pretender cackled, revelling in Sol's fear.

"You really had no idea? Really? That makes this so much more fun!" The Pretender laughed again, as it crawled through the window to stand before Sol. "You Avisans are all the same; you never realize that we can also blend in quite well, until it is too late. Oh, your creators were so entertaining! I killed them, you know. I greatly enjoyed stripping the wings from their bodies, hearing their screams of pain as I took my sweet time removing the one thing that would have allowed them to escape. Well, they could have just used those stupid powers of theirs... if they hadn't been screaming your name! 'Sol! Sol! Our dear, precious Sol!' Oh, Primus, that was most definitely the most fun I have had in a long time when killing something!"

Waves of sorrow coursed through Sol at the mention of her parents, only to be replaced by a burning anger. Standing before her was her parents' murderer. The very murderer she had been searching for ever since discovering her mother and father's discarded bodies in an alley behind a store in a town that they had resided in all those years ago. She had ever gotten the chance to bury them. She never got the chance to apologize for running away that night, the reason why her parents were even out in town. Sol had run away because her parents would not let her join in the antics of a few of the children that lived down the road; they had told her that it would be best for her to not mingle with the human younglings so as to not accidently give away that she was different from them. She had been eleven at the time. She had not forgiven herself since then, blaming herself for their deaths. If only she had listened and they might yet still be alive!

Fury caused her limbs to shake as she faced the Pretender, who seemed to grin in excitement to see its prey angered, hoping for her to attack. A growl issued from Sol's throat just before she launched herself at her parents' murderer, completely forgetting about the much larger robot behind her. However, the smaller one was ready for her and grabbed her by the throat, choking her. A well-placed kick landed itself on the Pretender's midsection, its grip loosening just enough for her to twist out of it. Distantly, as she focused on the opponent in front of her, electronic screeching and cannon fire could be heard behind her. She ignored the battle raging behind her, as the Pretender snarled and darted from side to side, attempting to find an opening.

Finally, the Pretender launched itself at her, only for Sol to realize that her back was now to the window. Their momentum carried them through the window, shattering the panes of glass. Shards cut her skin, the floor growing slick with her blood. Letting loose a battlecry, Sol focused all of her energy into her right palm as the small robot struggled to its feet. As soon as it was on its feet, Sol slammed her right palm into its chest plates as hard as she could, the energy glowing around her hand giving a little protection as the plates gave away, melting to reveal a pulsing light in the center of its chest. With a final screech, the Pretender kicked viciously away from Sol, the claws on its feet raking across her body in its haste to get away. Falling to the floor in a heap, Sol fought to catch her breath as the Pretender escaped through what was left of the window.

Rising unsteadily to her feet, Sol made her way to the stairs, attempting to go downstairs. However, her shaky steps prevented her from traversing the steps carefully, and she stumbled down most of them until she hit the floor at the bottom. A pained whimper rose from the prone form, blood pooling slightly on the ground beneath her. An attempt to rise once more to her feet was quickly stopped as pain racked her body, her ribs making it harder and harder to breathe. _I must have broken a few ribs with that fall_, she thought hazily. It was becoming harder and harder to keep her eyes open, as sleep threatened to overtake her. Blackness pulled at the edges of her vision. Just as the blackness started pulling her under, frantic pounding on the front door reverbrated through the front entry.

"Hey! Is anyone in there? Hello? Miss, are you still in there?" The voice was the last thing she heard before falling unconscious.

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"Man, I don't know why those 'Cons always seem to pop out of nowhere, but they really wanted whoever that girl is that was in this house," remarked Epps as he scanned the damage to the yard, the trees that surrounded the yard, and the house itself. Half of the porch's overhang was missing, having been ripped off when Ironhide first fired at Sideways. Bullet holes littered the siding, and in some places, whole parts of the walls weren't even there, giving a clear view into a few of the rooms of the home. Thunderous footsteps came around the house, revealing a stocky black Cybertronian. Ironhide. The weapons specialist was leaking blue energon from multiple wounds, but it didn't hinder him; they were only flesh wounds, as the humans would call them. "Why isn't she opening up, yet?"

"Lennox, there is a heat signature on the floor just inside the door that suggests that whoever is inside is on the floor. She may be wounded," Ironhide announced gruffly, slightly pissed that Sideways and the puny Pretender had gotten away; he continued to scan the surrounding forest for threats, always on the lookout. Lennox's eyes widened momentarily and he reached for the earpiece that connected him with the command center.

"This is Major Lennox. We have a civillian, attacked by enemy targets and possibly injured. Requesting medical assitance. And you'd better make it fast." An acknowledgement was given a few seconds later. The brown-haired soldier turned to look at Epps, a grim look on both of their faces. "Ratchet's on his way. Mind helping me with this door?" Epps nodded and they prepared to kick down the door, when Ironhide decided to lend a servo.

"Allow me. It'll take you forever to get it open." With that, Ironhide reached past the two soldiers and ripped the door off of its hinges, revealing a form lying in a pool of blood at the base of the stairs. At that sight, Ironhide commed the CMO, concern marring his usually gruff voice.

** ::**Ratchet, you'd better hurry. She might not last for much longer.**::**

** ::**I'm going as fast as I can down this Pit-spawned track they call a road! Primus, these slagging humans can't even have the decency to pave them all!**::** came the aggravated reply.

Ironhide turned from his conversation to see Lennox and Epps both kneeling next to the unconcious femme, attempting to stop the bleeding and cleaning out pieces of glass. A closer inspection showed large claw marks marring the femme's midsection, where most of the bleeding was coming from, as well as numerous small cuts covering her arms, hands, neck, and face. An exceptionally large cut extended from just above her left eye to her jawline, much like a scar on his own faceplates. But that wasn't what caught their attention.

"What the hell...?" Epps froze where he was, kneeling by her, staring in disbelieving shock at her back where he had been trying to clear out some of the glass. Slowly, he locked eyes with Ironhide's ice-blue optics. "You'd better tell Doc bot that she ain't human. This girl's got _wings_."

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**So... how was it? If you liked it, leave a review! If you didn't care for it or didn't like it, leave a review anyways; tell me why you didn't like it. Just don't totally kill me! If I get a good number (say... 10?) of reviews, I'll post another chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back! Just to let ya know, this takes place after ROTF, but before DOM. It might make it through the DOM events, it might not. I haven't decided yet. Also, more than likely, Sol will not fall in love with any of the mechs. I don't know; I haven't decided that yet, either. I'm so indecisive! .-. What do you think? Any ideas?**

**I apologize in advance for any errors and such in here; I try to catch them all, but it's hard to catch every single one of them.**

**A word of warning: Sol has a "flashback vision" in this chapter about her parents. I tried not to make it very gruesome, but it is sad. So, warning!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC, her parents, and any other things that I forgot to mention.**

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**Chapter Two**

**::**Ratchet, is it true that the young femme is Avisan? If she is, do you realize just how much awesomer it's going to get here?**::** The sudden comm startled the chartreuse CMO, Sideswipe's cheerful voice filling his head. Huffing in aggravation, Ratchet gritted his dentas before responding, touching a digit to his temple. It was a signal that had been adopted by the Cybertronians to show that they were accepting comms, and not ignoring the humans. Primus help him if the Avisan femme became part of Sideswipe's prank team.

**::**For Pit's sake! I won't know for sure until she wakes up. She could be a human 'Con experiment gone right, so that she looks Avisan. I don't know. If she's Avisan, she's Avisan! Stop badgering me with questions!**:: **Ratchet was quite irritated by all of the questions coming from the mechs.

**::**I apologize, old friend.**:: **Optimus's authoritive voice took on a meek undertone. Ratchet sighed, now realizing that he had broadcasted over the open comm line instead of his private one; he really needed to "take a chill pill," as the humans said constantly. Even Optimus had been guilty of asking questions, his old habit of learning all that could be learned kicking in again. But all of the questions were starting to cause one heck of a processor ache.

**::**I know how much it could mean if she is Avisan; they were great friends of Cybertronians. Now, their entire race is almost gone. However, the femme may be of royal descent and is very young compared to their life spans. I've found a faint tribal marking on her upper arm; it appears to be a glyph sun. You're better with symbology; do you recognize it?**::** Ratchet sent an image capture of said marking, waiting impatiently.

Avisans were so rare to come by anymore, so close to extinction, much like their own race. The Decepticons had come so close to wiping out their species, just for existing. Or so they had first thought. A closer look at the Avisans themselves showed that many members of the race possessed powers, unlike most other organics they had encountered. Such powers ranged from being able to turn invisible for short periods of time, to having the ability to grow to the size of some smaller Cybertronians, to even being able to read thoughts.

The chartreuse CMO waited impatiently for his commanding officer to respond. _What could be taking him so long? _Before Ratchet could send a comm, the med bay's door hissed open and a blue and red mech strode in with a rather large datapad in servo.

"I do recognize the glyph; if I am not mistaken, it is the symbol of the House of Solus," the Prime began. Frag. Ratchet growled, and subspaced a wrench, really not wanting a lecture. If Optimus's tone and if the datapad clenched in his servo was anything to go by, Optimus was going to go on a spiel. His librarian coding decides to work at the worst moments.

"According to this datapad I located, the House of Solus-"

"Optimus." Where in the Pit did he find a history datapad?

"-was named for Solus Prime, one of the very first-"

"Optimus."

"-of our race to come across the Avis planet and its inhabitants-"

"OPTIMUS!" Ratchet bellowed. Seconds later, a loud clang was heard, followed by a deep mechly yelp, the wrench no longer in the irritated CMO's servo. Sheepishly rubbing the new dent in his helm, Optimus looked at the chartreuse medic.

"My apologies, Ratchet."

"Now, if you don't want your physical to be moved to today, I suggest not giving me a lecture on their history, no matter how interesting. I have enough things to do at the moment because that fragging glitch Sideswipe switched my tools around. Again. All I needed to know was what the glyph meant. I have better things to do with my time than listen to you prattle on and on about history," Ratchet groused. _Why did he have to be a data clerk before being Prime?_

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_Annoyance coursed through her as she watched her parents continue to make the evening meal._

_ "Why can I not go and play with Jhase and Tami? We were only going to play a few rounds of that earth game, tag. May I? Please?" young Sol begged and pleaded her mother and father, but to no avail._

_ "Sol, you know why you cannot. The youngling humans must never find out that you are different. Even a simple game such as tag could give away the fact that you make next to no noise when you move, or the fact that once you are hidden, no one can find you," her mother gently told her, cupping her face with one hand while the other continued to mix the simmering liquid in the pot._

_ "But, I-" Sol was cut off._

_ "Sol, no more arguing. The answer is no, and it will stay that. Now, go and wash up for dinner," her father commanded. His voice was rich and deep, and when he spoke, all who heard, listened. Tears threatened to fall as young Sol solemnly nodded her head before turning and all but fleeing the kitchen. Her feet patted silently up the stairs to her room, but her door was not so quiet as it slammed. She would be reprimanded for that later. As soon as her door was shut, the tears fell down her cheeks, leaving silvery-blue tracks. Not thinking quite clearly with the only thought in her head being to disobey, Sol stripped off her long-sleeve tee, leaving her clothed only in a small black tank whose back had been cut out, making room for the beautiful wings between her shoulder blades. Slipping on her boots, Sol crossed her room to the window and threw it open, breathing in the dusk air. She paused for a moment, steeling herself for what she was about to do._

_ Run away._

_ Well, in her case, _fly_ away._

_ Opening her golden eyes, she crawled out the window and stood on the thin lip outside it, balancing easily. She left the window open; she didn't need to close it. Facing the outside world, Sol crouched down..._

_ ...and leapt into the air. Her small but powerful wings beat around her with solid strokes, moving the air surrounding her. A few chocolate, white-flecked feathers floated past, loosened by her flight. Hovering for a moment by the house, she waited, listening for sounds of her parents' wings coming to get her. Hearing nothing but her own breathing and wings, she turned towards the woods; she wasn't going to go and play with Jhase and Tami. No, she was going to go and hide for a bit. As she flew, not once did she notice the crimson optics that watched the home from across the street._

~Two hours later

_ Sol was tired and hungry; night had fallen about an hour ago, according to the little black watch bound around her wrist. She had been wandering around for much of the time, but always within seeing distance of the house. She had watched her parents search throughout the house downstairs and upstairs many times in the past hour, silently searching for their missing daughter. Well, silently to anyone listening with their ears. All three of the Avisans were quite adept at telepathy, one of their main choices at which to communicate with one another. Calls of "Sol" drifted through Sol's mind, but she blocked out any probing tendrils of thought that was looking for her; something she had gotten quite good at as of late. Calm was disturbed by an electronic squeal that cut through the air._

_ "Sol! Stay where you are!" Her father's voice, mind and actual, tore through the air and her mind, ripping her mental shields down with its force. Sol gave a cry of pain; her father had never done anything of the sort, outside of practice. It was common for parents to help their child build up the strength of their mental shields, to protect from outside attacks. Her mother yelled out in pain. A flurry of wing beats filled the air as both of her parents took flight, only for her mother to fall from the sky as one of her gorgeous white wings gave out. Before she hit the hard, merciless ground, her father caught her, folding her wings against her back and tucked her close to his chest protectively. They flew towards town. Chasing after them on the ground was a car; it looked silver or white, but it was too dark to tell._

_ Sol struggled; her father had given her a direct order, but the need to help rose above the power in his voice. Choosing to disobey her father once more, little Sol took flight, but this time was harder; she was on the ground instead of up on a window sill. It took some time and a lot of running and flapping of wings, but she finally made it._

_ She flew in the direction her parents had gone, using her thoughts to search for her mother's and father's familiar minds, finding them quickly. Their thought patterns lead her to a deserted alley behind the grocery store where she had gone shopping with her mother countless times. Paying no mind as to whether or not there were passerby, Sol landed in the entrance of the alley, her wings fanned out behind her; a metallic scent permeated the air, irritating her nose. Cautiously, she made her way towards the back of the alley, following the acrid smell._

_ The sight that met her eyes was gruesome; she fell to her knees in a crimson puddle, a harsh cry tearing from her lips. Tears renewed their dried tracks down her cheeks, this time in torrents, blurring her vision. As she stared in horror at the sight in front of her, two hands reached out to her, shakily. One was slim and delicate, the other sturdy and large. Her mother and father were still alive! For how long, only time would tell... they had lost too much blood._

_ "Mother... father... I am sorry," she whispered as she took their hands, crawling closer to them, extending her own small wings to shield their mangled bodies. "I shouldn't have run off. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."_

_ "Shh..." A bloodied finger touched her lips, quieting her. "Do not blame yourself..." Another cry was torn from young Sol's throat when she saw the reason for all of the blood._

_ Her parents' wings had been torn from their very bodies. Pristine white feathers were stained ruby-red; dark brown feathers, black. Both pairs of wings had been dumped in a pile, shredded and torn into mangled messes. It was a sight that a youngling should never have to see. A gentle but shaking hand turned her head from the terrible sight, turning her to face her mother's pale face. Her father reached out to her, barely able to grasp her hand. Their time was running out._

_ "Little one, there isn't enough time. Your father and I never got the chance to finish your teachings; there is still much to learn. You still do not know of your own heritage; we should have told you sooner, instead of avoiding it. Do not grieve, my little Sol; we will always be with you," her mother murmured, wiping away the tears that streaked Sol's cheeks. Her father pushed her hair out of her eyes, before seeking out the points on her face that would allow for a connection to be made. Her mother did the same with her other hand, until Sol's face was dwarfed by the large hands covering her face._

_ "Sol, do you remember the words?" Sol nodded. Her parents were going to impart as much as they knew to their daughter, all they have learned to be pushed into her young mind. Three voices rose as one in a kind of children's song, in a language that none on this planet knew. As the words were recited, Sol's mind became filled with knowledge and thoughts, passed on from her parents. A final gift. A gift that was not without a price._

_ When the connection was finished, both hands fell from her face, stone cold. Whimpering, little Sol frantically picked both back up, placing them back on her face. No movements came from the owners of the hands. Shaking the arms, the bodies moved, but still no sounds or movement came from the still forms of her mother and father._

_ Still holding onto their cold hands, Sol screamed at the black, starless sky as her mind threatened to shut down as it processed the new thoughts and memories that now flowed through her young mind._

* * *

"What did you _do?_" Ratchet thundered, practically throwing Jolt out of his way to get to the screaming femme thrashing on the human-sized berth on top of a Cybertronian-sized one. It had been three days since they had found the femme, and this was the first sound she has made. He transformed into his alt mode, and a zapping noise was heard as a Holoform took shape next to the femme. "Don't just stand there; help me!"

Jolt jumped, quickly onlining his own Holoform next to Ratchet's. It took both of them to strap the kicking and screaming Avisan down. Just before they did the last buckle, Ratchet took a punch to the jaw, knocking him aside. Jolt sprang into action, pinning the waving limb down as Ratchet jumped back up, and strapped it down quickly. As soon as they were done, the femme calmed considerably, and both Holoforms disintegrated. Transforming back into their bipedal forms, they checked the various monitors hooked up to the young femme; Ratchet noted that she was once again in a deep sleep. _That must have been one Pit of a memory for her to glitch like that. Slag, that was loud,_ Ratchet thought, rubbing his helm with one hand.

"Ratchet, I thought they don't dream," questioned Jolt. "From what I had learned previously, they do not dream, yet she seemed to be doing just that." The normally quiet apprentice seemed almost troubled by what had just occured. Turning his gaze on his apprentice, Ratchet paused for a moment.

"As far as I know, they don't; they don't start a dream and then "add on to it," as the humans say. However, they do relive certain memories and events that have occured in their lives while sleeping. It's almost like watching vid feeds. Depending on one's thinking, they could still be classified as dreams or even nightmares. This, however, seemed to be a bad memory, if the screaming was anything to go by." Nodding, Jolt turned back to what he had been doing pre-screaming: fixing the mess left by Sideswipe. The slagger had switched around many of Ratchet's tools, even going so far as to hide a few around base. This wasn't the worst thing done by Sideswipe. No, this was harmless, but left Jolt uneasy. _What was he going to do next? Does he have a death wish? I'm surprised Ratchet hasn't just reformatted him yet, _he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of metal hitting the ground and some very creative and colorful cursing in a variety of languages. Venting a sigh, Jolt didn't even bother going to check; he was going to hear about it here pretty quickly anyways.

* * *

**Sorry about the sorta strange spot to end. I didn't want to get into the next stuffs yet; I wanted that to be a chapter by itself. What stuffs, you ask? Well... you're gonna have to wait for the next chapter to find out!**

**I tried to explain about the non-dream thing. If you need me to, I can redo it, try to explain it a little better. I just couldn't find the right words to use! Does anyone else have that problem? Ugh, it's annoying!**

**I do have to tell you guys one thing: Sol, even though she is twenty-four, she really is only a youngling compared to others of her race. They aren't considered "mature" or an "adult" until about the ripe old age of 150 or so. Just a small tidbit. More on that later!**


End file.
